


don't wanna let you down (but i know i will)

by crimsvn



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Deity Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family, Fluff and Angst, Found Family, Gen, Podfic Available, Time Skips, mama puffy, some canon divergence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-04
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-16 23:49:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29832798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crimsvn/pseuds/crimsvn
Summary: “When you grow up, big and strong,” she starts slowly, lifting a hand to cup the boy’s small face, “promise me you’ll go on to doamazingthings, alright? You’ll take everything you learn and put it to good use. Change the world for the better, yeah?”Dream nods enthusiastically, offering out his pinky. The Captain wraps her own little finger around his as he says, “I promise. I’ll make yousoproud, I swear. I won’t let you down.”Little did she know how sour that look of determination would become.
Relationships: Cara | CaptainPuffy & Clay | Dream
Comments: 10
Kudos: 90





	don't wanna let you down (but i know i will)

**Author's Note:**

> two things!!
> 
> one - lore mentioned is gonna be inaccurate, and two - it takes place before tommy was put in prison 
> 
> that's all!! :)

The summer sun was warm on the Captain’s face as she sat in a field of long grass, cicadas buzzing their song from trees far in the distance. A light breeze passes through her hair as her hands press further into the dirt as she sits back and observes the boy running around with a crudely made wooden sword, slashing at grass and fleeing insects.

A soft smile is steady and constant on her face as she watches him hop and skip about, arm outstretched and fighting imaginary battles. He’d make a great warrior some day, she thinks. She _knows._

Dream, as the boy called himself, was a lively, ambitious thing. Sharp-witted, kind, lion-hearted. Destined for something greater than he might ever know. At least, that’s what the Captain had always believed, since meeting him.

He was built for otherworldly things, _godly,_ even. Dream was celestial in every meaning of the word, and yet the boy traipsed around on earth among mortals such as the Captain simply because he _enjoyed it._

It was… _curious,_ but she didn’t mind, of course. Because even despite his divine nature, the young god was like a son to her. The Captain _loved_ him like a son, ever since he had begun following her around like her own little duckling.

Suddenly, in the bright midday sun and clear blue skies, Dream trips and takes a tumble. It’s through moments like these that the Captain had learned that gods, too, were susceptible to earning cuts and scrapes and bruises just like any other human. 

The boy runs to her, sword abandoned and palms stained with soil, his cheeks wet with tears. There’s a rip in the fabric of his pants just at the knee, where it had come into unfortunate contact with a rather large stone, one of many littering the field, awaiting their unsuspecting prey low in the grass. Dream just so happened to be one of their unlucky victims.

He sniffles, aggressively wiping away fresh tears as if to hide from the Captain that he was crying. She gently takes his wrists and brings them to his sides.

“It’s okay to show weakness every once in a while, duckling,” she says. “No one’s going to judge you for it. _I_ certainly won’t.”

“I know that,” Dream says. His head hangs low, his gaze focused on the ground.

The Captain pats the ground beside her, beckoning for him to come sit. He obliges, wiping his face once more as he sits, neatly crossing his legs. Dream still doesn’t look at her, instead choosing to pick at the weeds that occupied the spaces between the patches of long grass. The Captain dusts off her hands before bringing careful fingers through the boy’s tangled golden hair, running from the nape of his neck up to the top of his scalp. 

“You don’t _have_ to know everything, Dream,” she hums. “You have a lot of life left to learn these sorts of things.”

“I know,” Dream says again, if purely out of habit. He sounds frustrated. “But… I’m supposed to know these things. I _should_ know these things. Shouldn’t I?”

The Captain sighs, wrapping her arm around his small frame and brings him close. The boy contently presses his cheek against her shoulder as he continues to mindlessly pick at the ground. 

“Maybe at some point in your life, yes,” she tells him. “But you’re _young,_ duckling. No one expects you to know everything right now. You’re not meant to bear the burden of all sorts of worldly knowledge just yet. Your head’s too small, anyways.”

“Hey!” Dream protests. A smile grows wide across his face, a giggle falling from his lips. “That’s not very nice!”

The Captain laughs, happy to crack a smile on the boy’s face. She gives his arm a reassuring squeeze. “No one said I had to be nice _all_ the time.”

Dream shifts to his knees so that he’s facing her, wincing a little when his injury brushes against the ground as he does so. He sits back on his heels, grinning mirthfully at the Captain. “You can be mean to the bad guys, but not to _me,”_ he whines. 

The Captain lifts her chin and sits up to ruffle the boy’s hair. “I can be mean to whoever I so please,” she teases, and taps his nose. “Including you.”

Dream huffs and puffs and a pout replaces the smile on his lips, though the Captain knows he is not actually upset. She knew better than anyone that it took a lot more than a few harmless jokes to anger the young god. He was a peaceful creature. Caring. Tender.

By nature he was compassionate. Dream was an empath, and the Captain feared that one day it would hurt him, but that day was not today. Not when it was bright and sunny outside, where long grass tickled at their faces and birds played tag in the skies.

“Duckling?” She asks quietly. Her voice is almost lost to the open air, but Dream hears anyway.

“What is it?” He questions. His innocent eyes are wide and vivid and wondering. Little did she know then, but the Captain would come to miss that look.

“When you grow up, big and strong,” she starts slowly, lifting a hand to cup the boy’s small face, “promise me you’ll go on to do _amazing_ things, alright? You’ll take everything you learn and put it to good use. Change the world for the better, yeah?”

Dream nods enthusiastically, offering out his pinky. The Captain wraps her own little finger around his as he says, “I promise. I’ll make you _so_ proud, I swear. I _won’t_ let you down.”

Little did she know how sour that look of determination would become.

*** * ***

Somehow, Dream believed he could have predicted Tubbo’s decision to exile Tommy. It was no secret the burden Tommy held over his country.

At least, that was what Dream believed.

Tubbo looks pained to be telling his friend the news before he brings it to the podium for everyone else to hear, but it takes very little convincing from Dream for the young president to feel more secure in his decision.

Tommy doesn’t cry, nor does he provide _any_ show of emotion as Tubbo steps up to the podium, and he is shackled up behind the stage as the words echo throughout the country. Dream doesn’t feel bad for him, irregardless. Tubbo made the right choice. Tommy had only brought this upon himself—he was a _poison_ to L’Manberg, running rampant in the nation’s veins. It was time for it to be cleansed.

If asked, Dream would not be able recall the reaction of anyone at the news, and not necessarily as a cause of bad memory, but more of a lack of concern. He didn’t _care_ what anyone thought. Tommy’s fate had been well sealed and settled, and all according to how Dream wanted it. _Needed_ it.

“You did well, Tubbo,” Dream commends as the president steps away from the stage. He doesn’t miss the way Tubbo averts his gaze as they pass by Tommy.

“I can’t say that I entirely agree, Dream,” is all Tubbo says, before leaving Dream behind with his former best friend.

A crowd gathers to watch Dream take Tommy away to exile shortly afterwards. It’s a predetermined spot known only to Dream and a few others he had trusted enough with the information, but to Tommy it would be completely and utterly unknown.

Dream is mostly unbothered by his sad sort of audience, as Tommy is set atop a horse, hands still shackled together, and blindfolded so that he’d have no sense of direction once they arrived at what would become his new home, far away from home. He is mostly unbothered until his eyes catch the Captain’s, whose face is filled with nothing more than a plea—for _what,_ though, Dream couldn’t tell.

Dream immediately averts his gaze from hers, though it continues to bore into his back as he and Tommy march away on horseback.

He hadn’t spoken with the Captain in quite some time, and a sudden wave of guilt washed over him and drowned his entire being at the realization as he and Tommy grew further and further from L’Manberg, from familiar territory. Dream staggers and stumbles over his thoughts, and was more than glad that Tommy’s vision was obscured.

As they continue forth, Dream is suddenly reminded of a conversation he had had long ago with the Captain, in a field in foreign lands Dream could not find again even if he tried. He almost believes the field of long grass and open space to be a figment of his imagination.

 _Amazing things,_ he had promised that day. _He’d do amazing things._

Dream takes a moment to reflect on his current predicament, his recent actions, though he doesn’t ponder on them too long in fear of creeping negative and cruel thoughts. 

These were _not_ the amazing things he promised, he realizes, but he doesn’t _want_ to realize it. He doesn’t want to think it into existence, into his reality, though he supposes he was well beyond saving himself from that.

Because bringing that realization to life meant the one thing he feared the most, the _one_ thing he promised he wouldn’t do—disappoint the Captain. Let her down, like he had let down so many others over the course of his life.

Dream shakes off the feeling as best he could and urges the horses into a canter. It lingers, but Dream is able to push it to the back of his mind as he reels himself back into the present moment and away from that peaceful field from much too long ago.

“Almost there,” he informs Tommy.

“Really? I couldn’t tell,” Tommy deadpans. 

Dream huffs and rolls his eyes, and pushes them ahead. Surely Tommy wouldn’t be missed. Surely Dream was doing the right thing.

Surely he hadn’t disappointed the Captain.

Not yet, at least.

*** * ***

Tommy had managed to make himself quite the life from nothing, is the first thing the Captain observes when she arrives at his exile point.

Though, she doesn’t know if she had expected any less from Tommy. He was a bright kid. Good at finding the positives in any situation—including some of the most dire, like isolation further away from home and friends than Tommy might imagine, than he might realize.

It was nearing Christmastime, and the Captain was a firm believer that no one should be alone during such a time meant for love and giving. Not even an outcast.

Tommy proudly tells the Captain about his little place, deemed “Logstedshire”, and she takes the time to listen as he tells stories of his new home. She notes how he’s careful and treads lightly in his words whenever Dream is brought up.

She talks about anything that isn’t Tommy’s situation as she helps to decorate a sad, drooping pine tree with the boy, if only for the holiday spirit. Tommy seems to appreciate the Captain’s efforts, seems to appreciate her presence—she was someone new in a very long while. 

The Captain had never told Dream she was going to visit, however Tommy didn’t know this, but she believed this ignorance would leave him at peace, maybe until he let slip to his enforcer that he had had a visitor.

Seeing how Tommy was, in exile, leads the Captain to wonder where she had gone wrong in raising Dream—because even if Tommy tried to insist nothing was wrong, she knew better than to believe him. She could _see_ there was something nagging at him, but she would never push. With Dream, she had learned when the time was right to ask questions.

But seeing how Dream seemed to have turned out, the Captain has a moment to doubt all the things Dream had taught her, both directly and inadvertently.

“How often does he visit?” The Captain asks. It’s a genuine question—she was no longer aware of her boy’s habits. It had been a long while since she was.

Tommy shrugs. “Almost every day,” he says. “And he never comes empty-handed. Dream always brings me food and supplies I might’ve asked for.”

Tommy’s admission ignites a flash of hope in the Captain, a hope that Dream had not strayed too far from the beaten path just yet. A hope that a good morality still sat proud in his heart and mind, guiding him just as the Captain had tried her best to however long ago.

It was a hope that Dream, the god, _her boy,_ was still _good._

Maybe she _hadn’t_ let him down as a mother figure, as a guardian. Not just yet.

The Captain doesn’t stay too long at the self-proclaimed Logstedshire in fear of finding out how Dream might react to finding her there. She wishes she could stay longer and provide Tommy with more companionship than only Dream, but not even the Captain herself was immune to Dream’s abilities if he truly so desired to use them.

She leaves in the opposite direction from where Dream arrives on horseback and, true to Tommy’s word, he carries items with him. His golden hair is just the same in the bright sunlight as it had always been, but his eyes are tired, and much duller than the Captain had once known them to be. It breaks her heart, but she knew there was nothing she could do, then and there.

The Captain doesn’t hear what Dream says to Tommy, only watching as he throws an arm around the younger boy’s shoulders as if they had been lifelong friends, the amicable, jovial attitude a stark contrast to the hidden expression etched on both their faces.

She begins her trek home before Dream can spot her, though she had an inkling that somehow, someway, he knew she had been there. He had always had an intuition greater than anyone she knew.

Tubbo doesn’t bother to ask how things are with Tommy when she arrives back in L’Manberg, but she doesn’t blame him. Since Tommy’s exile, Tubbo looked sadder with every day that passed without his best friend by his side.

The Captain wished things could be different.

She wished she could be back in that field with Dream, peaceful and in love with the life that surrounded her, and not surrounded by a grim atmosphere and dark skies, even when the birds still sang and the sun sat high and warm, tucked between innocent, fluffy white clouds.

But it was too late for that.

Maybe she _had_ let Dream down. Maybe they would have never reached this point had she just done _better._

*** * ***

“Look at this, Tommy! Look at what you’ve done!”

They stood in front of the community house, now smoking and in ruins, as Dream grips Tommy’s arm tight and points at the rubble. Points at what once was.

Really, he knew Tommy had nothing to do with the destruction of the community house, but he had done enough otherwise. Dream was grasping at anything to find a reason to keep Tommy out, or put him in the prison. Anywhere but _free._

“But… but I—” Tommy stammers. Dream can see the tears welling in his eyes, notes how his bottom lip trembles. “I didn’t do anything. I wasn’t even here, I couldn’t have… I… I didn’t…”

“But you _did,”_ Dream hisses. “This is _your_ fault.”

Tommy shakes his head. “It’s… it’s _not_ though, I never—”

Dream maintains his grip on Tommy as he whirls them around to face the crowd that had gathered at the site. Most are horrified faces, unaware of the truth, but Dream would rather have it that way than have the blame shifted to him.

It _was_ his fault, but no one needed to know that.

“Do you see this?!” Dream shouts, gesturing behind him. “Do you _see_ what he’s done?! Just as I thought that maybe he had redeemed himself, just as I thought that maybe he could come back… he pulls _this!_ Right under our noses! The _community house,_ reduced to mere ash!”

Dream yells and points fingers and blame until his throat feels raw, desperate to convince L’Manberg that Tommy was the doer of such actions, of such demolition. To persuade everyone into believing that it couldn’t have been done by the hands of anyone _but_ Tommy. The power the god held was _great._ His hands danced around with strings attached to each finger, manipulating the minds of people he had once known dearly.

He had all of them on his side. All his puppets.

All except for one.

While everyone looked between the place where the house had once been and Tommy, trying to connect the two and make sense of it all, the Captain stares right at Dream, a hardened expression on her face. Her eyes are sad, disappointed, but still full of the love he once knew. Dream’s heart sinks, but he rolls back his shoulders and stands up straighter as to not let it show.

 _It’s okay to show weakness every once in a while,_ Dream recalls the Captain telling him once upon a time, and his jaw sets, his hold on Tommy tightening. He doesn’t miss the way she winces when he looks away from the Captain and continues on his spiel, his vocal warpath. The horrible festering feeling in his gut only intensifies and bubbles closer to the surface every time he catches her gaze, and he _hates_ it. It makes him feel small, incompetent.

Last time Dream was in such a position, he had only been wondering if he had let the Captain down. This time he _knows_ he did.

He was no noble warrior. He was not changing things for the better as much as he wanted to believe he was.

In many ways, he was just as bad a person as he had been trying so hard to paint Tommy to be.

Dream would never admit to it, however. He could not show vulnerability, not even every once in a while. He was better than that. He was better than Tommy in such a way, better than _all_ of them—he wasn’t human. He had no need for their pathetic emotions. Their feelings of guilt and sympathy. He _shouldn’t_ have any need for them.

“Tubbo,” Dream finally grits out, wanting to run as far away from his thoughts as possible. “The other disc. Give it to me and I might forgive Tommy for this.”

Tubbo is taken aback by the sudden shift of attention, eyes wild and uncertain. The young president hadn’t been holding up terribly well since Tommy’s exile. “Dream, I—what?”

“You heard me,” Dream says lowly. “The disc, Tubbo. Hand it over.”

“Don’t fucking do it, Tubbo!” Tommy shouts. Sharp nails dig into the flesh of his arm as a silent warning, and a yelp emits from the back of Tommy’s throat as he swallows back any more words he might’ve had to say.

Tubbo takes a hesitant step forward, reaching under his suit jacket. He glances between Tommy and Dream as if trying to make a decision. Tommy looks at the ground below him, like a prisoner awaiting to step up to the gallows.

Everyone waits with bated breath as Tubbo makes his decision, a wicked grin tugging more and more forcefully at Dream’s face as it looks more and more like Tubbo is going to give him the disc he so desired. It would give Dream just the leg up he needed to secure the power he held over Tommy. The power he held over many.

As soon as the object is within Dream’s hands, he holds it close and tight to him. He doesn’t pay any mind to the Captain’s face falling as Tubbo takes a step back towards the crowd that had been slowly dispersing, because if he did he might begin to allow his looming misery to crawl in and consume him. No matter how hard he tried, it was as if the Captain could find any and every crack in his walls and exploit his weakest points, if he let her spare even the briefest of glances into his soul.

Dream tears away from the community house with Tommy in tow. He doesn’t feel any remorse as he smashes the disc in front of the boy’s eyes once they reach Logstedshire. He doesn’t care for Tommy falling to his knees to gather the shattered pieces of one his most prized possessions.

He does it all swiftly and without caution, and it’s then that he figures everything has been set in stone.

The Captain had been let down, Dream had let her down, but there was nothing he could do. It was much too late for reparations, for redemption.

He was hellbound, destined for horrible, _horrible_ things. A corrupted god was no kind creature. Maybe he hadn’t ever been who the Captain thought he was. Thought he _could_ be.

Maybe the Captain had only let herself down. Maybe Dream had done nothing.

It’s what he wants to think, but deep, _deep_ down he knows it’s not true.

This is _his_ fault.

*** * ***

For the first time in a long, _long_ time, Dream is exposed to the world as the truly fragile creature he has always been. That the Captain had always known him to be.

For a god, Dream seems impossibly small as he backs into a corner away from those who stepped into the prison to confront him. He’s pleading, and afraid, and maybe some of it is an act, but the Captain can see the genuine terror and heartbreak deep down within him, just a frightened little boy hidden within the hardened shell of a warmonger.

It hurts, and the Captain can hardly bear to look, but she has to stay strong. Even if somewhere, _anywhere_ within him a piece of her boy was still left in the present day Dream she had come to know, he had to pay for what he had wrought upon many. No crime could go left unpunished, especially not of such caliber.

She had heard all of the horrible things Dream tried to accuse Tommy of, the wicked things he had threatened. It shattered her heart into more pieces every time, learning of the things Dream was guilty of.

The Captain was certain she had failed him. Her boy was still lion-hearted, strong-willed and sharp-witted—but kindness had become a ghost of his past. He had stopped being the empath he once was, shed of the compassion the Captain knew would have only gotten him hurt. He had learned his lesson, his weakness, and he had endeavoured to eliminate it.

The Captain was certain she had let him down. Her boy was no longer a gentle soul that cared and loved those around him much too quickly and dearly. He had stepped into the role of a god and away from the shoes of a mortal he had once pretended to be. He was a fierce warrior, surely, but not for the benefit of others, or for the good of the world.

Her boy was motivated by nothing more than self-interest.

But now, as he cowers away from Sam, the Warden, not wanting to be hauled away to the depths of the prison, the Captain can see the boy she once knew was not entirely gone, and her heart _aches_ for him.

Tommy stands tall and brave for the first time in months, looming over Dream as the god had once done to him. Tubbo is close at his side, already having uttered more than enough apologies to compensate for all the wrongdoings he ever caused his friend. Tubbo didn’t know it would end like this—how _could_ he have known?

“Tell them what you did, Dream,” Tommy demands. “Say it.”

Dream shakes his head, the last dregs of his determination set on his face. “No,” he says.

“Say. _It,”_ Tommy repeats through clenched teeth. Sam juts out an arm to prevent Tommy from stepping any closer to Dream. 

_“Fine,”_ Dream snaps, barely audible enough for everyone other than Tommy and Sam to hear. _“I_ destroyed the community house. Is _that_ what you wanted to hear, Tommy? Or did you want me to admit _defeat?_ Would you rather I admit you _won_ this time? That _I’m_ the loser here? Is that better? Is that what you want? Because _fine._ You won. You’ve finally won.”

“Damn fucking right I have,” Tommy spits. He retreats as far away as he can from Dream as Sam shackles the god and drags him off to places unknown in the dark, cruel, and unforgiving prison. There’s whispers of Pandora’s Vault between everyone the Captain stood with, and she remembers vaguely hearing of it. A small little box of isolation hidden somewhere in the prison. An inescapable cell. The Captain worries for her boy.

She watches as Sam leaves with Dream, forlorn and wishing so _desperately_ for things to have been different. The Captain feels a hand on her shoulder, and turns to see Quackity offering her a sad, apologetic smile. As if he was trying to understand how she felt, but no one could ever do such a thing. No one knew Dream like she had—maybe George, or Sapnap, or Bad, _maybe,_ but they had only known him as a friend. She had known him like a _son._ She had known him as a guardian, a _mother._

And she had failed him as such too. 

*** * ***

Dream didn’t like being left alone with nothing more than his thoughts. It wasn’t peaceful, like most might think, alone in isolation in a place unknown. A place meant to both keep in and keep out.

He hasn’t eaten in several days, though mostly by choice. On the occasions that Sam visits, he keeps his back turned, not a single word uttered. He smashes clock after clock after spending time messing with the hands, desperate for any sort of human contact, even if it was simply the Warden providing him with something else he wasn’t meant to break.

The lava that keeps him in burns hot against his skin, even through clothing. He is sweating _constantly,_ and he feels disgusting, but there’s not much he can do about it other than splash his face with lukewarm water. He writes in a journal, scratching out line after line, tossing it into the wall of magma that scalds his skin on the off day he desired to feel something. Anything.

Dream has only been visited by Bad, so far, and that visit had not really… _gone._ He doesn’t speak much to Bad, doesn’t tell him anything. There’s something off about his friend, but Dream is too preoccupied with other things to care. To take much notice.

So when the lava wall opens up and reveals the Captain, Dream doesn’t know what to think. He doesn’t know what to _do,_ other than collapse into her arms and begin sobbing.

She is sad for him. Dream is unsure as to _why—_ no one should feel _sorry_ for him, not with how much wrong he had done. The Captain, if anyone, should be angry, _disappointed_ in him. 

Dream let her down. 

He made a promise and broke it. Shattered it into a million pieces, torn up and stomped into the ground. Dream couldn’t have brought any more disrespect to the vow.

Dream isn’t certain as to how long he cries into her shoulder on the floor of the cell. Careful, calloused fingers run through dampened hair, gently scratching at his scalp as he whimpers and trembles into welcoming, _loving_ arms.

“I messed up,” he cries. 

The Captain hums. “You did, yes,” she agrees. “You did some very, _very_ bad things, duckling.”

He knows this, of course, he _knows_ he’s done bad things—but hearing her say the words out loud sends him into another fit of sobs, a fresh wave of tears rolling down his cheeks. Knowing that’s how she felt, knowing that was what she thought nearly _kills_ the god.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I’m so, _so_ sorry.”

She sighs, cradling his head closer to her. He holds onto the fabric of her shirt like a lifeline. “It’s not me you need to apologize to, Dream. It’s never been me.”

“I know that,” he whispers. It’s a terrible, raspy, _pained_ sound. “I know.”

“Then I don’t want to hear it,” she tuts lightly. There’s a teasing tone hidden somewhere in her words, a tone Dream had once been very familiar with. A tone he could relate to _home._

But Dream didn’t _have_ a home anymore. He had lost it long ago.

He swallows the new lump that threatens to climb up his throat, choking back more tears and soft cries. Dream didn’t _like_ this weakness, but having the Captain so close, after so long, had broken the dam he’d built up over many years.

“I’m sorry,” he says again, though his intentions lie elsewhere, now. “I’m sorry for not keeping my promise. I’m sorry for letting you down.”

The Captain pulls away, then, and Dream can see there are tears brimming in her eyes as well. She cups his face, though her hand is much smaller against his head now. She wipes away a stray tear with her thumb, brushing over a thick scar that had formed from a battle long ago. She smiles, and shakes her head.

“You could never let me down, duckling,” she says softly. _“Never.”_

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by the song [i will - the elwins](https://open.spotify.com/track/0PGmodn3vogY6fAoeVtsuS?si=WJ-1x60JRDW--hQTcNMf4A)
> 
> \+ find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/crimsvn2)! :)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[PODFIC] don't wanna let you down (but i know i will)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29843961) by [downthedarkpath](https://archiveofourown.org/users/downthedarkpath/pseuds/downthedarkpath)




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